Daddy Issues
by Fairytales-Truly-Do-Exist
Summary: Seraphina Alejandra Fernandez, Storybrooke's newcomer, dealing with her depression over issues with her past and her father, seeks help from none other than Storybrooke's very own psychiatrist.


**Daddy Issues **

**By: Sammy **

**An OUAT official RPG-inspired fan fiction**

**Archibald Hopper and Seraphina Alejandra Fernandez**

_Seraphina, dealing with her depression over issues with her past and her father, seeks help from none other than Storybrooke's very own psychiatrist_

**Rated M due to mature themes such as self-harm and substance abuse.**

**Chapter One: Reaching Out**

There was not a time where Seraphina did not feel utterly alone. She had no siblings. Her mother was never around. Growing up she had no friends. No time for them, at least. Every relationship she had… they all seemed to fail, one way or the other. And then there was her father.

Yes, the young Seraphina was abandoned by her mother after only her first five years of life. And yet there was a "knight in shining armor" so to speak, who would come and care for her. And he was her father by birth. However, he was not good. Not to Seraphina. And obviously not in her eyes, either.

Perhaps he was a good guy to her when Seraphina was a child, but that all changed when the prospect of using her to his advantage came to mind. Failure was never an option. She had to be perfect and remain emotionless. She had to do what he wanted, when he wanted. He made her his minion, having her filling another spot on the chief director of Mossad's roster. And all of these things, she did. Every last one.

As Seraphina sat on her couch for yet another night, a bottle of scotch in hand, she stared solemnly out at the window, tears streaming down her cheeks like miniature water falls, tainting her skin. She could not take it, the unbearable silence which came from never telling the true story of why she had escaped to Storybrooke. She had to get things off of her chest, one way or another. It would prove to be difficult and yes, it would take time but Seraphina knew she had to try. She figured this would be a better alternative to letting it fester as she had. It was keeping her from living her life to its fullest in this new place. Being all too shut down was proving to be a hindrance.

So, that evening she reached over to her cell phone and pulled out a Storybrooke Phone Book. Flipping through the worn out pages, she stumbled upon the number of Dr. Archie Hopper. She dialed it with a hesitant and shaky thumb before bringing the phone to her ear and listening to the dial tone.

Dr. Hopper was sitting at his desk, going over some patient's files as Pongo slumbered by his feet. He reached for his glass of water and took a drink when his phone rang. He set down the glass and glanced at his clock, wondering who could be calling at this hour.

"Dr. Archibald Hopper," he said when he answered the phone. "How may I help you?"

It took a moment for the young woman to register fully that someone had answered and then another moment for her to form words within her mind before speaking. When she did speak, however, her accent was thick, not just due to descent but her emotions as well.

"Hello… to be honest, I am not so sure."

Seraphina was being truthful there. She knew nothing of how therapy worked, or what the process entailed.

"All I know is that I…" The Latina-Israeli paused, swallowing hard.

She took a sip of her booze, hoping someone this would help, though she doubted it would make anything better. She also realized that the alcohol could not alter nor erase her past. She had to confront it so she could live.

"I need someone to talk to… and you are a psychiatrist, correct?"

Dr. Hopper listened intently to the person on the other side of the phone. It was a woman and she had a very thick, exotic accent which surprised Archie, especially since he was only in Storybrooke, Maine. She also seemed upset and he could hear her pause for a drink, presumably alcoholic. Archie went into therapist mode immediately and was already determined to help her.

"Yes, I am a psychiatrist," he stated calmly and clearly. "And I can certainly talk to you as well. What's your name?" he asked for starters.

Seraphina re-positioned herself on her couch, clutching her knees instead of the bottle. She had set that down beside her. Taking a deep and seemingly calming breath, the young woman introduced herself.

"Seraphina," She started, swallowing a bit afterwards. "Seraphina Alejandra Fernandez."

Her accent grew a bit thicker with each 'r' spoken in her name. With a slight sigh, she rested her head on the back of her couch, staring up at the ceiling in the semi darkness.

"Doctor, I can assure you that I am not… crazy… I just… I have no one else that I can turn to." She confessed in a somber tone, her heart hurting as she spoke these words.

She despised herself in a way for being so utterly depressing. Even when she was the only one being realistic about a situation within someone's life, she always found a way to make it seem dreary. Perhaps because this was all she had ever known in her life, a dreary existence.

Dr. Hopper leaned back in his office chair and arched an eyebrow at her name. It was quite the mouthful and her accent was thick, though he could understand her just fine.

The doctor cringed at the word 'crazy', he hated that word more than anything. In his eyes, no one was crazy. People sometimes had mental illnesses, sure, but crazy was so offensive. If someone had cancer, one wouldn't call that individual 'cancer', so why was that any different for someone with a mental illness?

"No, Seraphina," he spoke calmly to the stranger. "Of course you're not crazy, and you can certainly turn to me. Whatever you need, I will do my best to help. You're not hurt are you? Physically, I mean."

She shook her head and responded verbally. "No… I am alright, I suppose."

Swallowing hard, Seraphina rested her chin on her knee and let out a sigh before gnawing on her bottom lip. She really was not okay even though she said so. She had been truthful when she said she was not hurt, but then again the young Seraphina had learned to be not always entirely truthful. Was this a bad or good thing, though? Hell, even she did not know the answer to such question.

Reaching for the alcohol glass, tears silently slid down her cheeks as she sipped from it. She had not been so sure of what to say now and she was sure from the dead air passing between them that Seraphina was just being a waste of the Doctor's valuable time and energy.

"I am sorry." She muttered, feeling it necessary to do so.

The doctor nodded his head in relief. At least she didn't seem to be harming herself. He paused, thinking of what to say and how he could help the strange woman on the other line. After a long pause, and what he heard to be another sip of a drink, he spoke again.

"Don't be sorry, Seraphina," he stated. "There's no need for apologizing. Listen, I would love to help you if you want someone to talk to. Would you like to meet in person?"

Seraphina bit her bottom lip roughly to keep it from quivering. The last thing she wanted to do is make it apparent to anyone that she had been crying. After all, this is not what her father had taught her.

Her father had taught her to be this emotionless little warrior, a robot of sorts, incapable of the emotions of which humans found to be inherently normal, a day to day thing. However, growing up with a father like hers… it just did not work this way.

Seraphina finally reclaimed the little composure of which she could muster before allowing herself to speak. Sniffing briefly, Seraphina contemplated taking another drink, but did not so until she responded to his question.

"Yes. If that would be alright with you." Seraphina murmured, taking another drink from the bottle.

She then began to regret this decision, feeling yet again like a burden to the world and that her problems were not worth bothering others with. They did not deserve to be the brunt of it, and Seraphina did not deserve to have someone, anyone to listen to her. In all honesty, this is how the young newcomer to Storybrooke felt… and she had felt this way for years.

"Yes. Yes, of course it's all right!" the doctor insisted. It was very obvious the woman needed help. She was probably foreign, perhaps alone, and he could hear the tears in her voice. He wanted to help in any way he could.

"When can we meet? I can meet you as soon as you need. Do you need me to come to you?"

Her heart felt as though it was in her throat, making it impossible to speak for several moments. She took yet another drink, hating that she was relying on substances to make herself function.

"I-I am not sure. M-maybe in the morning?" She asked in an emotionally thick and now clearly intoxicated voice, pleading without saying it to be sober when she were to meet the doctor.

Seraphina, secretly, did not wish to be seen in such a state of weakness. It would mean she would have failed… at least in her eyes. Setting down the bottle, she pushed herself back into the couch and let out a shaky sigh. She needed to regain any ounce of composure and do so quickly, before she had a total meltdown "in front of" the doctor. She could not crack, not even bend… not here, not now.

"Seraphina, yes… that would be fine, really." She heard the male voice on the other end speak and after that she hung up her phone, dark waves of hair shielding her face from view as she allowed the phone to go to the couch and her head to hang.

Dr. Hopper nodded into the phone, jotting down some information about Seraphina and meeting with her that morning. His heart went out to her, and he was beyond concerned for her. He wanted to be able to go to her and make sure that she had been honest with him earlier. He had no idea why, but this one patient truly did stick out from all the rest. What he did not realize at the time was just how correct he had been.

TBC…


End file.
